#coopersranch

[cooperstfranch]

Old Ranch, Fresh Boots

My old ranch was looking pretty dusty and worn-down as I rode back towards it. Damn, had it really been that long? The fence was nothing but a few rows of lonely sticks, the sign on my gate had fallen into the dust, and my ranch house looked like it was halfway to falling over.

I climbed down off my horse, my boots raising clouds of dust as I landed on the ground, then started to tie him up against a post. One more thing to handle with him before I stabled him up though. I stroked his heavy head and looked him in the eye.

"So, said I'd turn you back if you asked me to. How about it?", I said in my gravelly accent. The horse looked back at me dumbly, nothing but animal instinct in his big black stallion head. I knew his mind would have crumbled by now, but when the guy tried to rob me a few months ago, I did promise I'd turn him back from a horse once I reached home, if he asked.

I left him there for now, and climbed up the porch into my house. The door was hanging open and the inside hall was covered in sandy dust. I reached down and pulled my left boot off slowly, feeling the worn and muddy leather slowly slide free. As my hairy, rough foot pulled out, the boot crumpled slightly, the leather gone soft from years of hard use.

I pulled the other one off too and sighed with relief. I lifted the pair up and grinned at it, ignoring my own musky smell oozing from the leather.

"You were good boots, boy. Hope it was everything you wanted", I said. I felt no reply or consciousness from them, not that I was expecting to. Guys that I turned into my boots didn't keep thinking like humans for very long. The warmth and weight of my feet, the taste of my sweat, the smell of my masculine musk, all combined into a brain-crushing effect. I could sense their thoughts while wearing them, and most of them descended into nothing but horny and needy begging after a week or two. After a few months, generally nothing but moans and shuddering.

This guy had been my boots for two years, and had long since stopped having any human thoughts. He only felt pleasure and contentment, his mind fully converted into that of the spirit of an object.

I pushed open the door to my cellar, and where I store my collection of former humans. Down there I had whole shelves of old boots, men who's spirits had fully succumbed to becoming objects and could never turn back.

I had been planning to just give this pair a space on the shelf, but I was surprised to find my cellar was already occupied. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a naked man, one of my boots pressed to his face as he inhaled the scent, and his other hand wrapped around his cock as he pleasured himself to it.

He pulled the boot down in shock as he heard me walk down the stairs, and a blush covered his face as he grunted and sprayed all over himself with his own seed. I raised a bushy eyebrow and watched as he scrambled to grab his pants.

He was red-haired, a little muscle to him, maybe some farmhand. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. Well, all guys are young to me, that's how it gets when you're over a hundred years old, but visually I still looked like a gruff, bearded old cowboy in his late forties.

"Gonna tell me what you think you're doing in my house, boy?", I growled. He covered his junk with his hands, then seemed to realise something.

"Wait...you're him! You're Cooper!", he said in awe. I wasn't sure how I felt about my reputation preceding me.

"I heard you're a wizard, that you got branded by the devil's cattle iron and it gave you powers! M-my name's John, I, uh...I'm sorry, I've been sneaking in here, and I just...", he stammered. I sighed and kept walking until I was towering over him, while he still kneeled naked on the floorboards.

"I want to be your boots!", he finally blurted out. I noticed his eyes were locked staring at my bare feet, his face flushed and hot with desire. I ignored him for now, and carried both my newest pair and the ones he had been huffing, to place them both on the shelf. Then I crossed my arms and looked down at him

"You know what you're asking for here, boy? You really understand what that would mean?", I say. He gulps, his dick already getting hard again just from staring at my feet. Damn, this boy was obsessed.

I lifted one of my feet and showed him my wide, rough sole. It was dirty and blackened from my long trip. Not a lot of bathing gets done out in the wilds. I expected him to flinch or recoil from the musk, but he actually leaned closer.

"It's no picnic, no fun little trip. It's one way. Everything you are just becoming leather, becoming an object. Wrapped around my feet, no way to say no, no backing out. Forced to taste and smell my dirt and sweat even if you get sick of it. Before long your mind would start to melt away, become part of the boots. Each step my weight would crush down on you, wipe you away more. Eventually you wouldn't even think at all, not how a human does. It'd be just experience, sensation, the mind of an inanimate object with no desires. That really what you want of your life?"

He looked up at me with no hesitation, and nodded.

Well, I'm not one to pass up new boots, or to give a second warning. I shoved my foot forward, pressed my rough toes into his mouth, and he gagged on them as his body started to shift. His flesh becoming more malleable, his bones softening as my power filled him. My foot slid right over his tongue and down his throat, as his head started to reshape and conform to fit me.

His eyes watered, but to my surprise he actually pushed himself forward and helped push my foot deeper. Damn, this boy really wanted it. I wondered if he had been influenced by the desires and needs of the countless boots down here, or if this was just how he was.

His skin started to toughen and become darker. It creaked as it grew thick and leathery, the tanning of fine leather spreading down his body, while his insides started to hollow out. He reached down to his shaft and started trying to stroke himself, but I growled a warning.

"No, boy. Your pleasure isn't important any more. You are my property, and what you want isn't relevant."

He immediately pulled his hands away and tried to nod. Damn, I wish all my victims were this obedient. As his body flexed and shifted, the shape of it becoming less and less human, I reached down and pulled his lower body over.

I pushed my other bare foot towards his tight ass, even as I watched it turning brown and firm. He gurgled and shuddered as my toes slid into him, my feet filling both his behind and his throat. Then, when I was ankle-deep, I started to pull.

He moaned and started to sweat. I knew he was feeling his whole body strain and shift in a way no human would ever feel. With a slow sensation, like pulling taffy, his entire body split in two.

He would still feel both parts, feel and taste and smell my unwashed feet in every part of him. Already his limbs were shrinking away into the brown leather, his facial features disappearing as stitching appeared along his sides. I watched as the last of him melted away, until I was wearing just a seemingly ordinary, heavy pair of brown leather boots.

I stood up, and felt him moan with lust as my weight pressed down on him. 'Thank you', I heard in his mind. I didn't reply. I'd already forgotten his name, and he was just property now.

He tasted my sweat and felt every touch of my bare feet with every step, as I climbed back up the stairs to sort out the horse and get the house in shape. There was lots to be done, and lots of folks who needed to accept their place in my ranch.

[cooperstfranch]

Cooper leaned back against a rock outcropping, his pistol gripped in his hand. Chips of stone burst from the edge of the rock, sending dust and grit flying along the hard soil as gunfire hammered his makeshift hiding place.

"Come out come out, Cooooper", called a mocking voice from a high stone platform. Cooper gritted his teeth. The bandage around his arm was starting to stain red from the gunshot wound he took earlier. If his reactions had been a fraction of a second slower, he would be dead. He looked down thankfully at the thick leather boots he was wearing. One of the many of his belongings which granted him speed, strength and endurance beyond that of normal men. Due mainly to how they were made.

He turned, and fired a shot, his bullet exploding an oil lantern set up nearby. Darkness spread over the canyon walls as the light was snuffed out. All around him were tattered tents and broken barrels, the result of his earlier skirmish. "Give it up, McKay! I took down your gang, it's just you and me now", Cooper shouted. His deep voice rumbled over the walls.

There were no bodies lying among the tents, but here and there were odd, out of place object. A boot, a hat, a horseshoe. The remains of the gang members who went up against Cooper's special gun. McKay's laughter echoed around the canyon. "They were only human, Cooper. Not like you and me. If you hadn't done it, I probably would have ended up turning them into whiskey as soon as I got bored anyway."

Cooper pulled down his hat, and tossed it. As expected, it bounced in the air as McKay fired a perfect shot even in the pitch darkness. Cooper rushed from his cover spot to a nearby boulder, and rolled into safety just as McKay fired another shot mere inches from him.

"Why did you have to go and get a conscience, Cooper? Do you remember when you turned that nice innocent farm couple into socks? And their son into a pair of chaps! You used to know how to have FUN!", McKay shouted. Cooper didn't reply, but his glare darkened.

"McKay, let's end this man to man. Twenty paces", Cooper shouted out. Then he clenched his gun. "Golden bullets", he finished.

There was a long pause. Then he heard a rustling sound, and a thump, as McKay dropped down from his sniper perch. "Well well. Maybe you do still know how to have fun, my old friend", he said. Cooper stood up, keeping his gun ready, and left his cover. McKay stood in front of him, the man's black longcoat matching his black hat. The only colour on him was a red neckerchief. His handsome face was adorned with a neatly groomed black beard, very unlike Cooper's scruffy, grizzled appearance. McKay held up a gleaming, glimmering golden bullet in his gloved hand.

"I've been waiting for this chance ever since you left us, Cooper. I've kept this one just for you. You'll make such a nice addition to my collection", McKay said. Cooper emptied his own pistol, and slid a similar bullet into one of the chambers. They walked up close, and McKay blew him a mocking kiss. Then they stood back to back, McKay's black longcoat against Cooper's dusty, tattered leather duster.

They started walking away from eachother, step by step. Just as they reached ten paces, McKay turned, and lowered his gun. Cooper felt it in his boots, that twang of warning. He leaped to the side, and rolled as McKay's bullet ripped a new hole in his flapping duster, but didn't touch his flesh. Then he twisted, and fired.

A golden sigil appeared on McKay's forehead, as the bullet landed true. He touched his skin in disbelief. "You got me, brother", he said. He fell to his knees. Cooper stood up, and walked over, holstering his gun as he did.

"You never appreciated the value of objects who want to be worn, McKay", he said. He tossed aside McKay's hat, and pulled off his coat, before starting to strip the tall man bare. Soon, he was kneeling naked in front of him. McKay shuddered, and panted, but each time he tried to resist, the glowing mark on his forehead would pulse and burn. He could do nothing as Cooper turned him around and forced him to bend over. The grizzled, hairy cowboy unbuckled his belt, and lowered his pants, then pulled out his thick, hard cock, and thrusted it into McKay's ass.

McKay snarled, and dug his fingers into the soil. Cooper thrust again, pushing deeper, slamming his cock over and over into him, until he was as deep as he could go, with McKay's rear pressed firmly to his groin. Their flesh started to grow hot, as it merged and melted together. McKay grunted, his face flushing red as he felt Cooper's blood begin to pump through his body, hot and fierce and strong.

Cooper leaned down, and stroked his hands up and down McKay's chest. McKay panted, shuddering with pleasure as every touch of Cooper's rough, hairy hands. McKay's legs started to shrink, becoming soft and limp as they were drawn up against Cooper's balls. They pressed into them, merging into the flesh and disappearing. His arms shrank too, getting smaller even as he tried to rub and stroke his own ultra-sensitive, throbbing chest. As they disappeared, Cooper started to stroke and pump him harder, making clear, salty pre dribble and gush from McKay's mouth.

McKay's hair began to recede, drawing up into his skin as his face turned more and more red. His head arched up, then started merging and drawing down into his neck. A thick vein became visible from his waist up along his chest, as his shape started to become more simple, more phallic. His nose and ears merged into his head, as his mouth thickened into a vertical slit.

He got harder, firmer. His whole body felt stiff and hard and hot. He could feel an intense pressure building up at his base. Cooper could feel it too. He huffed, shuddering with pleasure, and it finally burst. Hot, thick fluid erupted up through McKay's body, as cum spurted from his mouth and splattered all over the canyon floor. Rope after rope of it, buckets of cum, then gallons. Enough to paint the walls with thick, hot seed and leave a gigantic puddle on the ground.

With each load that left him, McKay got smaller. Shrinking down more and more, as the last of his features vanished. Soon, as the last spurt of cum dribbled from his mouth, he was nothing more than a heavy, fat twelve-inch cock, hanging from Cooper's crotch.

Cooper stood up, and buckled his pants back up. McKay throbbed and twitched against his thigh, leaking a little pre. Cooper could feel his influence. Making him think of going out there, finding some harmless farmstead, and turning everyone in it into his belongings. How hot it would be to be a true predator, to know that everyone in the west was just a resource to be used. He pushed the thoughts away, for now, and headed on the road home. He was going to have to stop a lot along the way, to pump and stroke his new cock until the damn thing learned to stay quiet.

[cooperstfranch]

Old man Cooper stretched, and scratched his belly. It was hard and firm, as tough as wood but hairy and rough. His shirt was stained with sweat from working all day under the sun, and a few beads of sweat glistened on his dense, dark beard. He turned to the young farmhand next to him, who was hammering nails into one of the fences on the old cowboy's ranch.

"Well Corey, I wasn't sure y'all had it in you, but you've impressed me. What do you say I offer you a special role? Somethin' I'd only offer to someone I can trust to have my back and...support me, you could say", he said. His beard twitched slightly with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Well Mr. Cooper, you know you can count on me, sir!", the farmhand said with an innocent smile.

Cooper leaned down, and pulled on his boots. They were old, and well-worn, the leather cracked and scuffed. He tugged them off slowly, and revealed his huge, hairy feet, glistening with sweat. The soles were darkened with dust and dirt, and the powerful, woody stink of the old cowboy's musk filled the air.

"These boys have been good to me for goin' on ten years, but they're on the way out. Boy, you ever thought of bein' an object?", Cooper said. Seeing Corey's reaction, the older man raised a hand. "Now now, I know it sounds bad. Y'all only hear about criminals becomin' a sheriff's smallclothes or suchlike. But hear me out, boy. As my boots, you'd feel no pain. Only pleasure, from every step I take, the pleasure and warm feeling of being owned, an' havin' a purpose, a reason to exist. No stress, or worry, ever again. You'll know exactly what you're for, why you exist. An' I'll treat you right. A man's boots are important, and he's gotta show them respect. You'll be my partner in many ways. Closer to me than even the ladies ever get!", he said.

The farmhand hesitated, but his eyes were locked down as he stared at the old cowboy's huge, hairy feet. He gulped. "Truth be told sir...I am quite fond of your boots. I've thought about that sorta thing once or twice before. Ah reckon gettin' to serve you is a mighty fine honor indeed!", he said. He looked over at the old boot, then back to Mr Cooper's sweaty feet. He grinned, and nodded. "Ye-Yes sir! Please make me of use to you, I will serve you well sir!", he said eagerly.

Cooper grinned too, an unusual expression to see on the gruff, surly old cowboy. He slapped Corey firmly on the shoulder. "Damn boy, I'm proud of ya. Ah reckon you'll be the finest boots I ever did own!", he said.

He reached down, and grabbed Corey's shirt, before pulling it up over the younger man's head, revealing his slender chest. Then he unbuckled Corey's belt, letting his pants fall down, and pulled them off along with the farmhand's own boots, one by one.

As he stood up again, he rose an eyebrow as he saw Corey's cock, standing hard and firm. "Well ain't that a sight. I ain't had no idea you was...that way, if you catch my drift. I guess that explains a few things!", he said. Corey blushed, and awkwardly held one hand over his throbbing cock. "S-sorry Mr Cooper! Thank You Mr. Cooper! This is kind of a dream come true sir, in more ways than one...", he mumbled.

The old cowboy ruffled Corey's hair and grinned. "Damn boy, you'll make even better boots than I hoped! I ain't never met a man more suited to be worn", he said. He gently pushed Corey down onto all fours, the younger man standing naked with his hands and feet on the dusty ground of the ranch.

"This'll feel mighty strange, but just don't fight it. Let the changes flow into you", he said. Then he sat down, and lifted one of his large, dirty feet, and pressed it to Corey's mouth.

The older man's toes were sweaty and ripe, and the stink of the old cowboy's thick, woody, musky aroma filled Corey's nose, even as he tasted the salty and earthy flavour of his unwashed feet.

His toes pushed in deeper, Corey's cheeks stretching as his toes pushed back against his throat. At the same time, he lifted his other foot, and pressed his toes against Corey's tight asshole. It slowly stretched, a little uncomfortable at first, but even as the second and third toe pushed in, it didn't hurt like he'd expect. Instead, the stretching in his rear felt oddly blissful. It made his cock bounce and leak, as the old cowboy's entire foot started to push up into his ass.

Corey moaned, and shuddered with the strange sensations. The thick, manly smell of the mature cowboy's feet seemed to fill his lungs, flowing through his mind and making it impossible to focus on anything but this bizarre pleasure. He expected pain, but was instead getting one of the most pleasurable and intense feelings he had ever imagined. He looked up at Mr Cooper, his face red with a blush, as he felt his mind fill with an odd set of new thoughts. He had always been attracted to the rough old cowboy, but now he felt different. Cooper was everything. Cooper owned him. Cooper was his whole world.

The old cowboy looked down at Corey with a fatherly smile one more time, before pushing his feet in deeper. His toes pushed down into the younger man's throat, stretching it out as more and more of his feet filled Corey's body. The rest of his other foot slid easily deeper into Corey's ass, until it moved past the ankle, and even further.

Corey's neck and chest stretched slightly, his insides feeling strange. They shifted and gurgled, his organs starting to stretch and squash out of the way, no longer needed. His skin felt dry and firm, the colour deepening. It took on a deep, tanned shade, before getting darker, becoming a glossy, leathery brown.

The old cowboy tugged his feet, stretching them away from eachother. The sensation for Corey was indescribable. His whole body was stretching and tugging on itself, his midriff weakening, pulling out taut. Until finally, with a shocking sensation of sudden, electric pleasure, he split in half.

Cooper stretched out his legs, and looked down at Corey. The shape of the boy's body was already altering, conforming to fit his feet perfectly. But it was possible to still see the faint hints of legs shrinking away on his left boot, and arms on his right boot. Corey could feel his new boot soles forming, a sort of hard, strong sensation in his two split bodies. His limbs shrank away, disappearing as he no longer needed them. The leather took him over, covering away all his features, everything he didn't have a use for.

His nose and eyes slowly flattened, and closed. But he found he could still see. His vision was now strange and distorted, focused on the ground with two viewpoints, one from each boot. And though he no longer breathed, at every moment he was constantly smelling Cooper's scent. It was so much stronger, more rank and masculine now. It was like his senses were enhanced, to better taste and smell and worship his owner's body.

Corey could no longer feel any of his limbs. His entire mind was nothing but Mr Cooper's scent, the taste of his dirty feet, the pleasure of being completely filled by a man who owned you. His mind started to degrade, thoughts becoming jumbled, happy, and confused.

"Thank...you.....Mister.....Coop....." were his last human thoughts, as he shuddered and accepted his new permanent fate. Cooper flexed his toes, feeling the heat and warmth inside the boy's new body. That humid, warm comfort that showed his boots are happy and content. He stood up, and rubbed his back. Corey could feel the old man's weight pressing down on him, the forceful thump of each step he took.

He no longer truly had a brain, but he was still in some way conscious. Not thinking, but aware. Tasting every drop of sweat Cooper's huge feet oozed into him. Soaking his degraded mind with that smell. His thoughts were now the thoughts of an object, of boots. The desire to be owned, to do a good job. The pride of being a treasured possession.

Cooper didn't say anything to his new boots. Part of respecting your transformed objects is treating them properly, like the objects they are. So he just carried on with his farm work, knowing the boots were happy and content to have found their true place in the world.

[cooperstfranch]

I placed the tip of my gun, still smoking, under the cattle rustler's chin, and lifted it up slightly. He was kneeling on the ground, panting heavily and clutching his leg where I shot him only moments ago. "You motherfucker-", he started to say, before I leaned down and punched him in the gut.

He fell forward onto the dirt of my ranch. I had been sleeping when I heard him sneaking around, so I came out with only my jeans and hat on, and my trusty, custom six-shot. "You ain't one who can be callin' other folks motherfuckers, outlaw", I told him. I lifted my foot, and pressed it down on his face, as I grinded his cheek into the dusty ground. The mud coating my bare soles smeared over his stubbly cheeks.

"You're the Jones boy ain't you? I recognise you, I knew your pa", I said. I scratched my dense, dark beard, and then kicked him over. "Tell you what. I reckon I'll give y'all a choice. You can either hang, or become my property", I told him. He looked up and hesitated. He was probably gauging his chances of fighting me, but I'm an intimidating man. Six foot six of hard, fighting muscle. Dense salt and pepper hair covering my scarred chest, a thick dark beard streaked with grey, and the eyes of a man who takes no shit.

"You're a slaver? Folks always said there was somethin' funny about your ranch...fine. I'll be your property", he said. I grinned, and pushed open my revolver, emptying out its bullets and sliding in one new one. A special, custom bullet, that gleamed gold. I lowered my piece, and pressed it to his forehead.

"But...you said...", he said, before I pulled the trigger. There was a bang, but no blood or gore. Just a glowing symbol that appeared on the cattle rustler's confused forehead. "Strip", I ordered him. To his shock, his body moved against his will, as he pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants. Soon, the scrawny dirty outlaw was standing naked in the cold air. "Follow", I told him. I made him march barefoot back to my house. Once we were there, I left him on the porch and went inside. He tried to run, but his body wouldn't obey him, and he just stood there shivering until I returned and tossed him something.

It was a cowboy boot, aged and dusty, with details and patterns all down the leather. It looked old, but the interior was still clean and unworn. "Look familiar? I've that that for eight years", I asked him. He shook his head. "It should. I got it the night your pa went missin'. That boot is your daddy, boy. And now I'm gonna get myself a matching one to complete the pair", I said. He looked down in horror at the aged leather boot, only to see his fingers starting to change. The tanned skin darkening more, becoming a deep, leathery brown. He dropped it, and fell backwards as he scrambled away from me. "Stay", I commanded, and his body froze up. I stepped forward, and stood on his chest, stroking my foot over his body. My rough, muddy toes touching his skin, spreading the change. His body grew darker, his skin thicker. He moaned and shuddered, as I reached down and pulled him up. I slid my toes into his mouth, and he gagged and coughed as he tasted my musky sweat, and the dirt staining my soles.

His mouth opened wider, his throat stretching to allow me to push my foot in deeper. He tried to reach up and push me off, but his limbs grew heavy and weak. He could only lift them a few inches, and then they flopped down, and started to merge and sink into his chest. His body creaked and reshaped as my foot pushed down, inch by inch. Organs disappearing, insides hollowing out. His features faded out all over as the leathery texture took hold. I lifted my foot, feeling him dangling off me, and saw his legs shrink away. They darkened, turning deep black as they became a thick, strong boot sole. His manhood dangled from my heel for a moment, before I pressed it down on the ground, and made it merge in with the rest of the sole. His eyes on the sides of the boots clenched as he felt me push my weight down on him.

All he could taste and smell was my dirty, unwashed foot. My huge hairy foot filling him completely, his body shaped to fit me. My sole grinding against his tongue, while each step I took seemed like I was stepping on and rubbing against his cock.

I lifted the other boot up, and slid my bare foot into that too. His eyes slowly closed over, and disappeared. "Father and son, reunited. You boys can have some quality time on my feet while I go muck out the stables", I said to them. I could feel their disgust and confusion, as the boots tightened around my feet slightly. I ignored it, and went about my day. A cowboy's work is never done.